


exhale you in pain (like smoke in the rain)

by grayspider



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, College, College Student Peter Parker, Cross-Species Genetics, Depressed Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heroes to Villains, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, MIT, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Me trying to sound smart in science, Norman Osborn's A+ parenting, Not Canon Compliant, Oscorp - Freeform, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter goes to college, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Sad Peter Parker, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Spidey Sense (Marvel), Spidey Sense Fail (Marvel), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, robot fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayspider/pseuds/grayspider
Summary: If Queens and every other borough in New York weren’t already littered with images of the late Tony Stark, the campus of MIT definitely was. After the events in Europe, Peter was sure he was over the anxiety and terror of living in Tony’s shadow, but now it feels it's suffocating him more than ever.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	exhale you in pain (like smoke in the rain)

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Far From Home but does not deal with the events of the end-credit scene, because I am simply not strong enough to acknowledge it happened. This is not an Endgame fix-it; Tony Is still dead, and Peter is learning how to cope with his grief on a more personal level than on a super-hero level.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my tumble @gr-eet if you want to talk writing, request any prompts, or just become mutuals!

If Queens and every other borough in New York weren’t already littered with images of the late Tony Stark, the campus of MIT definitely was. After all, it would be a shame to let any student or alumnus forget that they produced the genius of the one and only Iron Man. His face is plastered on every banner, his name on several benches and statues across campus. After the events in Europe, Peter was sure he was over the anxiety and terror of living in Tony’s shadow, but now it feels it's suffocating him more than ever. It was overwhelming enough when Peter had gone for orientation last month, but now, standing on center campus where a minimalistic statue of Iron Man towered over him, Peter feels _smaller_ than ever. His suitcase drags heavy behind him, and a fleeting moment of dread almost has him sprinting back to the parking lot where May had said her goodbyes to him moments before. 

It’s ironic how Peter has faced men with alien weapons and fought Thanos on a far-away planet, yet all he wants to do now as he faces the vast MIT campus is run. He can’t run. He knows that Tony wanted him to attend MIT, just as he did. And he wanted to-- even without Tony’s prompting-- he really did. Now it felt like a cruel joke. As if he couldn’t breathe in Tony’s shadow before, now practically every building he passed on campus had his name plastered on the front in gold plating. He wonders what Mr. Stark would think of the grandeur. 

_“You know I’ve got pull at MIT,” Mr. Stark said as he fiddled with the bright blue holograms hovering above his worktable. Peter sat a few feet away at his own little workbench, his web-shooters disassembled in front of him. He held back a smirk at his mentor’s words._

_“I don’t want to get in with your money, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled without lifting his head. It stressed him out when Tony brought up college, especially because it was still so far away (relatively) and he really had put no thought into it until Mr. Stark came into his life. He figured with Aunt May’s tight financial situation, it would be difficult for him to go anywhere prestigious without a pretty massive scholarship. Sure, Peter was smart, but he wasn’t sure if he was smart enough to get a full ride to a place like MIT. Regardless, he didn’t want Mr. Stark’s charity._

_Tony pushed himself away from the table, the projection flickering away. He crawled his rolling chair towards where Peter sat, prying his gaze onto what he was working on. “It’s not money, per se,” he said. “Think of it as an investment. A down-payment to MIT. A_ shining _letter of recommendation.”_

_“Still sounds like charity to me, Mr. Stark.” Peter didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it slipped through. He dropped the screwdriver in his hands in frustration as he turned to look at Tony. “You’ve already done a lot for me. The suit. This internship. I can’t ask for anything else.”_

_“You’re not_ asking _, kid,” Mr. Stark retorts. “I’m_ insisting _. With a brain like yours, you’d fit right in. Sure, the environment is a little_ elitist _, but what’s the point of going to a fancy college if you can’t rub it in someone’s face?”_

_Peter gnawed at his bottom lip. The way he discusses college-- let alone MIT-- so freely and trivially makes Peter squirm. As if it wasn’t something that he had to stress over and consider most of his high school career. After all, the genius had attended at age 15, way younger than Peter. When Peter was 15, Tony Stark was telling him how inadequate he was to do the_ one thing _he believed he was good at -- Spider-Man-- and he took his suit away. How was Peter supposed to live up to Tony’s expectations of surpassing him as an MIT student when he’s already light-years behind in the race? It was unfair._

_“It’s not that, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted, hanging his head low. He couldn’t find the strength to look at his mentor in the eye at that moment. “I just… if I’m going to get into MIT, I want it to be because of_ me. _If I couldn’t get it done_ before _then I shouldn’t now.”_

_Tony is quiet for a moment. Peter can’t see his face, but he is sure that he’s messed up. That he’s betrayed Tony Stark’s trust and he won’t be invited to work in the lab ever again. He’ll take the suit again-_

_“Alright,” his mentor said. “That’s fair. I’ve said it before, you’ve got this Springsteen working-class hero vibe. I get it.”_

_The tension in Peter’s shoulders, which he wasn’t aware he was there, immediately melted away. He knew how incredibly stubborn Tony Stark was, so he considered the small victory enough to drop the college conversation completely. Without waiting for Mr. Stark, he turned back to his web-shooters, squinting at the microscopic grid of circuit boards beneath the external shell. In his last battle against someone who called himself Kingpin, they were crushed and have been malfunctioning ever since. He needed to get back to friendly neighborhood monitoring, so the conversation of college was hardly the first thing on his mind._

_“It’s not like you’d have a hard time getting into MIT anyway,” Mr. Stark continued, rolling his chair back towards his table. “With that… super brain. Spider-brain. Whatever.”_

He looks down at his suitcase. It’s barely held together by layers of multi-colored duct-tape, but it was the only thing in his apartment large enough to carry his necessities. Including his newest suit. He misses Ben’s tattered briefcase in that moment. It was small, but it was one of the only belongings he had left of his uncle. But like many other things, he had lost it in Europe. He always wished to take a small piece of Uncle Ben with him when he finally went to college. However, now he holds a tattered piece of luggage and a broken spirit. No Ben, no May, and no Tony. He’s alone.

It’s almost enough to make him regret his decision. Almost.

The rest of the walk to his dormitory is numb. He arrives at the Baker House before he realizes he’s crossed most of the campus, dodging the crowds of students already moved onto campus. The building is an odd shape, like an ocean wave or a ‘W’. There are groups of bright-eyed freshmen piling in the front door, some hugging and saying goodbye to their parents. Peter tries to ignore the sting in his eyes and chest as he weaves past them and ducks inside the building. He clutches his phone in his hand, glancing at the screen-shot of his email from the housing office. _Room 309_ , it reads. His heart aches at the thought of not rooming with Ned like they had dreamed of since middle school. However, life, as always, had different plans for the pair. With Ned attending school over a thousand miles away at a technology school in Georgia, their dream is utterly crushed. May tells him, in his initial moment of turmoil and heartbreak, that it’s for the best; college is a new chapter of life, and he needs to embrace the new, uncomfortable experiences instead of run from them, she says. 

So, without dwelling on his misery, Peter tugs his suitcase along into the nearest elevator. So far, he hasn’t seen Tony’s face plastered on any wall in this residence building so far. He’s grateful for the brief reprieve. He’s nervous to meet his random roommate; he hasn’t even gotten the chance to know the kid’s name yet, and he’s about to be living with him. He would be lying if he says it doesn’t make him nervous. It’s almost like he’s the sad, lonely, nerdy kid sitting by himself at the lunch table all over again. 

Before the elevator doors close, a blonde-haired girl sticks her foot into the doorway and stumbles in. Her arms are full of boxes, stacked up so high that Peter can’t see her face. His hand leaves the handle of his luggage and he stumbles to help her, holding the elevator door open so she can stagger inside. 

“Woah, thanks!” Peter still can’t see her past the boxes, but he can hear the smile in her voice. The elevator doors slide shut. 

“Uh, what floor?” Peter asks, his fingers awkwardly hover over the elevator buttons. The girl huffs and drops her cardboard boxes to the ground, running her fingers through the pieces of hair that hung out in front of her face. 

“Oh, five please,” she responds. “Thank you. My name’s Gwen. Gwen Stacy. This is my first semester here.” She sticks out her hand.

Peter clears the lump in his throat and shakes her hand. Her smile is warm and kind, and it’s a gesture of kindness that helps Peter unravel from the tight spindle of anxiety he’s spun himself into. “I’m Peter Parker, and me too. I’m a freshman. Do you need help with those boxes or--”

“What? I’m a woman so I’m unable to carry my own boxes?” She stares at him in a deadpan. 

Peter feels his face burn up all the way up to his ears. Why do girls always _say stuff like that?_ “What? No, no I was just--”

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” she says, shaking her head. The elevator dings on the third floor. “Well, see you later Peter Parker. Maybe we’ll run into each other.”

Peter tugs on his suitcase where it gets caught on the lip of the elevator’s threshold. “Yeah, sure, see you around, Gwen.” The elevator doors slide shut before he has much time to consider the encounter. At least he knows _one person’s_ name around here. 

The third floor is relatively empty, save for a few students and their parents finishing moving their stuff into their rooms. Most of the doors are propped open, and he can see students and their roommates setting up their beds, stocking their mini-fridges, and setting up their PlayStations as he passes by. _302\. 303. 304. 305._ He’s hyper-aware now of how pathetic he appears with his tattered suitcase. It’s got the necessities-- some clothes, simple twin bedding, and his toilet trees. May will meet him this first weekend to bring some more of his things down, but with a time conflict with work _and_ her volunteer work at the FEAST center in Queens with Happy, she couldn’t take the time to help him move in this week. It’s okay, he thinks. It’s only a little bit bitter when he sees students hug their parents goodbye. 

When he reaches room 309, the door is already propped open, and he hears music blasting from inside. He peeks inside. A boy, a solid six inches taller than Peter, stands in the room with his back to him, bobbing his head to the sound of the music playing from his phone perched on the windowsill. He has a few boxes and suitcases scattered on the ground below him. A pristine, black leather case is opened on the bed in front of him, some freshly-pressed dress shirts folded neatly inside. Peter’s stomach twists with nerves. _It’s now or never_. 

He knocks on the open door with his knuckles. His roommate turns on his heels, seemingly not surprised by the sound. When he sees Peter standing in the doorway, an uncertain expression crosses his face for a split second before he erupts into a grin. “Hey, stranger! You must be my roommate.”

“309, right?” Peter laughs nervously, holding up his phone with uncertainty. He inches inside the room. The back of his neck tingles with nerves, and he’s unsure if it’s a _real_ danger he’s sensing or if he’s just being a nervous wreck. Most likely the latter, he decides.

“Harry Osborn,” the boy introduces, extending a hand out towards Peter. His smile is charming and warm, but that doesn’t stop the cold, hard feeling of dread dropping in his gut. _Osborn_. He knows that name, but he hasn’t seen it since his school trip to Oscorp Industries. The one where he came home with an aching spider-bite on his left hand. He swallows his dread, takes Harry’s hand, and struggles to force a smile. Spider incident aside, he’s always been fond of Oscorp’s work, especially their recent focus on biomedical engineering-- a subject Peter himself is interested in exploring. But this is risky, Peter recognizes. He isn’t sure how involved Harry has been in Oscorp’s experiments, but this is the closest Peter has been to Oscorp since the initial bite. He needs to be careful.

“Peter Parker,” Peter says, surprised when Harry’s face lights up with the faintest sense of recognition. “You wouldn’t happen to have any connection to Oscorp Industries, would you?” He immediately regrets the question when Harry’s face twinges with unease. He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Harry shakes his hand, giving Peter’s hand a firm squeeze before releasing him and turning back to his suitcase. He pulls the dress-shirts from the suitcase, slinging them onto wooden hangers and resting them at the foot of his bed. “No, don’t be sorry,” Harry says. “Norman’s my father, though I try not to involve myself too much with Oscorp. I wanted to be my own person, make my own decisions. Never thought my dad’s shadow was the place for me.”

Peter dislikes how much the sentiment resonates with him. He believes he has no right to consider Tony any sort of father figure-- after all, Mr. Stark left behind a child of his own-- and Peter was not his son. As hard as it is for him to force himself to believe that and to push down any childish hope he had that somehow Tony would fill in that impenetrable void that Ben left, he has to accept it. It would be unfair to everyone else that lost Tony. He’s not the only one in mourning. He’s not the only one left to deal with the shadow that Iron Man left behind. At least after Europe, he’s started that healing process. He doesn’t _have_ to be Tony. 

“Is this your first semester here?” Harry asks, catching Peter off guard. He’s now by his closet, struggling with the small, creaky door as he shoves his hangers onto the metal beam. 

Peter realizes he’s still standing in the doorway of the room, holding his luggage awkwardly. He shakes it off and saunters inside, dragging his suitcase behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters, hoisting his luggage onto the slightly lofted bed and unzips it. “What about you?” He turns on his heel to face Harry again.

“Me too, but I’m a sophomore,” Harry explains, shutting the closet door and moving back towards his bed. Peter notices his roommate’s twin bed already made thin, black silk sheets. Peter isn’t usually concerned with appearances, but he feels his face slightly burning with shame as he tugs the bargain twin bedding set from his suitcase. “I used to go to Empire State University, but my dad didn’t think it was challenging enough.”

“MIT’s a pretty big step up,” Peter mutters. “Did you like ESU?” He’s asking out of curiosity for MJ. She decided to stay in New York to be close to her family, and ESU seemed like the best bet. Peter was inches away from following her there, but the MIT acceptance letter pinned on the fridge stared at him with such distaste that he couldn’t go through with it. He’s sure that May and Happy would support him no matter where he decided to go, but his internal guilt complex convinced him that Tony would never forgive him if he didn’t choose MIT. 

_Tony’s dead_ , Peter thinks bitterly. _He doesn’t care what you do._

Harry turns back and smiles at Peter, shrugging his shoulders. “I liked it enough,” he says. “The parties were fun. You’ve ever been to a college party?”

Peter tries to physically force down the flushing of his cheeks that he _knows_ is coming. Just his luck that he gets randomly paired with the coolest, richest guy at MIT. “No, I barely even went to a high school party, it just--”

“I’m taking you to your first party,” Harry insists, his arms spread out as he approaches Peter and claps him on the shoulders. “There’s a group of people meeting at Cambridge. It’s totally your scene. It’s like the perfect mix between a science fair and a fraternity party.” 

His brain goes into overdrive. It’s hardly his first _day_ at MIT, and someone’s already trying to get him to go to a party. He’s inclined to refuse off the bat, his brain ringing with panicked alarm bells. What if he needs to go out as Spider-Man? What if he finds another Flash to torment him? What if _anything_ goes wrong? 

Before he can come up with an adequate excuse, Harry’s phone is ringing. He steps away from Peter, holding up a finger and pressing his mobile phone to the side of his cheek. Peter tunes out the conversation, turning back to his suitcase and unfolding everything that is crammed inside. He feels tears stinging at his eyes. Mortified, he swipes at them with the sleeve of his shirt, glaring down at his clothes in hope that the wave of emotion will pass. He’s horrifically embarrassed, but the weight of everything is crashing down onto him. 

He misses May. He misses Happy. He misses Tony. He longs for his friends. He wishes Ned was there to joke with him and talk about Star Wars as they set up their dorm room together. He wishes Michelle was there to give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him he’s being overdramatic. Peter regrets coming to college at this moment. It’s a dramatic thought, he knows, but there’s nothing now to buffer the sadness that creeps into his chest as he stares at his shabby suitcase open on his bed. Selfishly, he wants May to be there in that moment to help him make this tiny dorm room feel like home. But he’s not sure anything away from May could feel like home. However, May is busy and has her own life now. It doesn’t revolve around taking care of Peter anymore, and he should be accepting of that. He’s stolen so many years of her life, first when his parents passed, and then even more so when Ben died. She’s been raising him on her own for so long, supported him through so much, including superhero antics, and she deserves the world.

She deserves to be happy without him. 

“So, are you in?” Harry asks, but Peter almost misses it. He turns after aggressively wiping his eyes. It would be terrifying if his suave, cool roommate saw him losing his composure not even a day into college. He clears his throat, darting his eyes across the room. 

“Uh, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, I mean--” he’s cut off by Harry laughing heartily, shaking his head and turning back to his bed. He pulls his silver-colored luggage off of his bed and slips it underneath, hiding it from view. He pulls himself up onto the edge of the bed, crossing his legs at his ankle. 

  
“I can tell already that you’re kind of a recluse. Maybe a bit of a nerd.” Harry says, and Peter tries to ignore the pang of hurt in his chest at the words. Harry must notice this because he immediately starts back-pedaling. “But hey! That’s fine! I was nerdy in high school, it’s chill. Besides, it’s Thursday and classes don’t start until Monday. You can take one night!”

  
Peter casts him a doubtful glance. He knows May would jump on the idea of him going out to a party, on his first night no less. She always wants him to reach out of his comfort zone, to not let his fear of being _different_ hold him back from experiencing college like any other normal kid. Hell, maybe even to experience it as Tony did. It was something that Mr. Stark _adamantly_ advised against, with the number of parties and recklessness he got himself involved in. However, even though Peter’s smart, Tony was an absolute genius. His mentor could get away with spending his time at parties, but Peter probably wasn’t so prepared. He has to work hard, and especially with his _side gig_ , he can’t afford to have anything go wrong. As he ponders, he mindlessly pulls all of his clothes and toiletries from his suitcase, refolding them and organizing them into piles. It’s pointless to refold everything; he’ll just have to store everything into his closet and dresser later. But for now, it’s the only thing to keep his racing mind and trembling fingers occupied. He’s afraid he’ll fall over if he moves.

“How do you even know there’s a party?” Peter asks, desperately trying to stall to buy himself some more time to make up his mind. He’s torn between wanting to just _relax_ and find the peace he desperately searched for on his summer trip to Europe and playing it safe and staying home. Harry seems like a nice enough guy, with his crooked smile and relaxed demeanor. “You said this was your first semester here.”

“You underestimate my power,” Harry jokes, lying back on the bed. He’s staring up at the ceiling, swinging his legs where they hang off of the edge of the bed. “Some of my friends from high school go here, and a few of them go to Cambridge too.” 

Peter takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. Despite his nerves, he would want May and Tony to be proud of him. And maybe this was the right way to start his college career-- without any worry, bonding with his new roommate, and maybe even making some friends. Worst case scenario, he can come home if he hates it.

“When’s the party?”

  
  


After the sun had set and after a short ride in Harry’s _very expensive_ Rolls Royce, they arrived at the Cambridge quad. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up and jeans with his ratty sneakers, an outfit eerily reminiscent of what he wore to Liz’s party all those years ago his sophomore year. Only this time, he isn’t wearing his suit underneath. It’s a party in Cambridge. Spider-Man doesn’t live near Cambridge. There’s no reason for him to be here, right? 

There were already tons of people huddled around, neon lights strung across people’s necks, and music blaring from robotic speakers perched on all four corners of the quad. It isn’t long before they’re all swept up, and Peter completely loses Harry within the first five minutes. He doesn’t recognize any of the faces in the crowd. He stumbles forward, snaking his way through the thickening crowd until he finds an open clearing. 

Everyone in the crowd circles around this one circular area around the pavement, leaving a large clearing. Two drones fly overhead, projecting two small, white spotlights onto the clear area of pavement. Two figures-- a boy and a girl-- sit in the circle facing each other, their hands fiddling with controllers in their hands. There are two robots-- each one with extremely different designs and structures-- fighting one another in the center.

One of them is blue and robust, two rotating blades on its shoulders. It dives towards the smaller robot, a slate gray skinny robot that seems to be made of some kind of nanotechnology. Each working component of the second robot is microscopic and detailed, and it moves with extreme ease and agility. Peter struggles to recognize it as a robot for a moment, but he watches the girl’s thumbs twitch on the joysticks in conjunction with the robot’s movements. It dodges the swinging blade of the boy’s robot-- who curses beneath his breath and fumbles with his controller. Peter has never seen anything like this, even before he quit the robotics lab at Midtown Tech. His eyes wide in awe, staring as the two strike, parry, and dodge with their two robots. He’s startled when he feels a hand tap his shoulder. He nearly jumps out of his skin, twisting his neck around to see Harry standing behind him, pressing an opened bottle of beer into his hand. Peter takes it, surprised. “Harry, I didn’t know where you went.”  
  


“I went to find us some drinks,” Harry says, lifting his own beer to show Peter. He turns his attention back to the robots. They continue to fight, the crowd crying out and urging the players on. The drones circle overhead, flashing now all sorts of colors across the make-shift bot fighting arena. The blue robot charges forward yet again, its circular blades extending out and forming an X in front of it as it corners the nano-bot at the edge of the arena. 

He turns to Harry, eyes wide, searching for some sort of explanation. “This is so amazing!” Peter cries, gesturing wildly to the fighting arena before them. “I haven’t seen technology like this anywhere but Mr. Stark’s lab.” He cuts himself off, sucking in a deep breath.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to be paying too close attention to what Peter is saying, because he takes another swig from his bottle and points to the two bots wrestling in the center. “You won’t see _this_ anywhere else, Pete,” he says. “I told you this party would be your scene.”

In the short moment he’s looking at Harry, the slim robot gains the upper hand. The broad robot is lying haphazardly on the ground, sparks radiating from the frayed edges of wire protruding from the midriff of the bot. The smaller, nanotechnological robot stands tall and proud. The crowd around them erupts into cheers, and the girl-- who Peter now dumbfoundedly recognizes as Gwen Stacy-- jumps to her feet, bouncing with her arms thrown triumphantly over her head. 

“That’s Gwen Stacy,” Harry says from behind him, pressing the green glass bottle to his lips. “She went to my high school and worked as an intern at Oscorp. She’s _brilliant_.” 

Peter bites his lip as he watches Gwen relish in her victory, grasping at a money pile thrown into the center. That type of robotics work is truly impressive, and he would love to talk to Gwen to figure out how she manufactured something like that. He hasn’t had the chance to work with engineering robotics since the last time he was in Tony’s lab, which was _years_ ago. 

Harry nudges him with his elbow, gesturing to the beer bottle sitting untouched in his hand. “C’mon Pete. Loosen up a bit,” he urges with a comically large grin. “We’ve gotta get drunk before we can talk to girls. I can introduce you to Gwen if you want.”

“What? Oh no, I wasn’t--” Peter blabbers, his cheeks and ears heating up red. He’s grateful that the strobe lights of the drones hovering overhead hide his deep blush. Or, he hopes they hide it anyway. 

  
“I saw the heart eyes you were sending her way, Petey. It’s okay, there’s no need to be embarrassed--”

Peter yelps and grabs Harry by the elbow in alarm as the elder moves away towards Gwen’s direction. Harry stops in his tracks and turns back to Peter, eyebrows turned up with amusement. Peter licks at his lips. “I don’t _like_ Gwen like that. I just met her!” he interjects, shaking his head. “Besides, I have a girlfriend. I don’t need to get drunk and meet girls.”

Harry blinks, his face blank with surprise for a second before he erupts in laughter and hooks an arm around Peter’s neck, pulling him close into his side. Peter pretends to struggle, knowing full well he could lay Harry out in an instant if he really needed to. It’s strange to him how comfortable and carefree Harry seems to be around Peter already, given that they had only met a few hours ago. “You have a girlfriend? I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming. What’s her name?”

Peter swallows the hurt he feels at Harry’s remark. “Her name’s Michelle, but I call her MJ,” he explains, feeling the tension unwind from his shoulders after just mentioning her. He misses her so much; they had hardly gotten a proper goodbye before she had to leave for college, which started a week before Peter even moved to MIT.

Harry claps Peter on the back and finishes his beer with one more big gulp, holding the bottle sloppily between his fingers. “I’m happy for you, Pete. But regardless, you should meet Gwen. She’s in your semester, so you’ll probably have some classes together.” 

Before he can argue, Harry has his hand on Peter’s wrist and is dragging him in Gwen’s direction. She’s still surrounded on all sides by other students. They’re taking turns looking at her nano-robot, turning the invention over in their hands, trying to inspect for any flaws in the design. Gwen stands with her arms crossed over her chest triumphantly. She turns her chin their way, and her eyes light up with recognition. She snatches her bot from a boy’s hands and rushes over to Harry, enveloping him into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Harry drops Peter’s hand to return the hug, shoving his empty beer bottle into Peter’s empty hand. 

“Harry! Haven’t seen you around in forever. How are you?” she asks as she pulls back from the hug. She looks at Peter, smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Peter!”

Harry looks between the two, perplexed. “You know each other?”  
  


“We met in the Baker elevator,” Gwen explains. Her eyes lock on the untouched beer bottle in Peter’s hands. “Are you going to drink that?”  
  


Peter shakes his head and hands her the bottle, trying to ignore the exasperated look Harry’s giving him from the corner of his eye. He’s still too nervous to drink, not to mention not old enough. 

“Well, Peter drew the short stick and got paired with me as a roommate,” Harry says, hooking his room around Peter’s neck yet again. “He seemed pretty impressed by your little robot display there, Stacy.”

Gwen’s eyes light up, and she practically downs Peter’s beer in one go before shoving the small robot into Peter’s hands. “Isn’t it cool?” she gleams, stepping up to stand on Peter’s right side. She leans close to him, pointing to a microprocessor that looks similar to the one in the back of Peter’s phone. “This little thing has billions of resource files packed into this tiny processing chip. It’s a little trick I learned while working on surgical bots at Oscorp.” 

Peter swallows his nerves. The likelihood of anyone around him knowing about the incident that took place a few years ago is next to none. He needs to _relax_ , despite the soft buzz radiating from the base of his skull. He dismisses it as his senses retaliating at the sudden noxious stimuli of a college party. He focuses his attention on the robot in his hands, but his focus is not on the microprocessor or motherboard. He’s focused on the slate material that actually makes up the robot. They are exactly what he expected-- nanobots. They’re tightly stacked together, their seams nearly invisible but Peter has an extraordinarily sharp eye. Especially when it came to technology. He wonders where a girl like Gwen could have gotten tech like this. This type of nanotechnology was fresh out of Wakanda-- or at least, that’s what Mr. Stark had him to believe. He had only seen portions of Tony’s work with the tech during their sparse lab hours when Tony was working on a housing unit for nanoparticles for his newest Mark L. To see them in a domestic, college bot-fight baffles Peter. 

It’s in moments like these where he realizes that he was _gone_ for five years. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’s living five years in the past. To be fair, it felt like mere seconds for him. One second, his body was _screaming_ for help as he painfully chipped away into dust, holding onto his mentor for dear life, tears streaming down his cheeks… and the next he awoke to an entirely different world. Things were the same, but it never truly felt the same. He sometimes feels like he’s _stuck_ in that time. It's been some time since the final showdown against Thanos, but he’s still catching up for that lost time. When he was working with Mr. Stark in the lab, Thanos hadn’t even come to earth yet. That was over _five years ago_. Maybe nanotechnology is all the rage, highly accessible now. Peter would be none the wiser. 

  
“This is really good work, Gwen,” Peter compliments, turning the bot over in his fingers and brushing his thumb over the slate-gray, metallic material. “But this processor is nothing compared to the assortment of nanobots you have on this. That’s how it can move so fluidly, right? The weight balance with these bots is so light… These are made of carbon fiber, aren’t they? That would explain the rigidity ratio-”

“I’m impressed you noticed,” she interjects, taking the robot from Peter’s hands when he’s finished examining every inch of it. Peter thinks that Gwen is blushing, but he can’t really tell from where she’s standing at his side. “They were useful for non-invasive surgical procedures that Oscorp was researching. Let’s just say I… borrowed a few.”

  
“You seem to know a lot about this kinda tech, Pete,” Harry remarks. “I would look into MIT robotics. I heard spots fill up fast at the beginning of the semester, so if you want to, now’s your chance.”   
  


“You’re thinking about joining?” Gwen asks with her eyebrows raised. Peter moves to interject; he’s not sure he should be committing himself to any extracurriculars other than his Avenger duties. He could barely handle the balance of work, school, and life in high school when the stakes were relatively low. But now he’s at MIT and the world is still looking to Spider-Man to step up as an Avenger’s key player. School _and_ work just got a whole lot more complicated. He doesn’t want to overextend. However, all of his weak protests are ignored as Gwen speaks over him. “I’m pretty much already on the team, my good family friend is becoming the captain this year, so I can put in a great word for you. All you’d have to do is pass the audition and you’re golden!”

Peter stops in his tracks. “An audition?” 

Gwen laughs at his cluelessness. “Well, yeah, they can’t just let anyone in. It’s incredibly competitive,” she says. “The team works together all year to present a finished product at the MIT Alumni-Stark Expo. Tons of job scouts and scientists looking for new tech to enter the field. Last year this senior girl named Felicia created this human tissue 3-D printer and she got a job at Mayo Clinic or something.”

“What is the audition? What do I have to do?” He’s asking out of pure curiosity, Peter tells himself. While the prospect of working with multiple great-minded students to put together robotics projects that could actually make a _difference_ unlike his recreational robotics work at Midtown. 

“It’s pretty easy,” she says. Her blue eyes flicker down to the robot lying in her palm. She turns it over in her fingers as if testing the texture of the metal against her fingertips. He looks back up at Peter, and she gestures to the bot. “You have to win the match. Think about it. I’ll see you around, Peter.”

She turns after saying a warm goodbye to Harry and disappears into the thickening crowd. The small circle that had been cleared for the fight was overtaken again, and the spot-light drones were nowhere to be seen above him. Peter stands there dazed for a moment. He turns to Harry, looking at him helplessly. He isn’t sure what to take from that interaction with Gwen Stacy. For one, she’s absolutely _brilliant_. To get a high-up internship at Oscorp, she had to be smart, but the way she worked with those nanobots was revolutionary. The only other person he had met with such confidence in their robotics was Tony Stark. 

“She took your beer man, I’m sorry,” Harry says, though he doesn’t seem that sorry. His attention is split across the party. He’s itching to get into the fray-- Peter can tell by the way he’s shifting his weight from side to side and darting his eyes to every group standing off at the sidelines drinking-- and Peter feels a pang of guilt. He’s likely the reason Harry’s still hanging around watching robot fighting. Although it’s a sweet gesture, Peter doesn’t want Harry ruining the party for himself for Peter’s sake.

“If you want to go dance and drink with your friends, you can,” Peter says. He tries not to feel insecure, but he’s ultimately failing. He doesn’t want to be babysat. “I’ll be fine.”  
  


Harry blanches, staring at Peter as if the boy has sprouted a second head. Peter rubs at his neck, maybe to check that there is, in fact, no head growing from the side of his neck. “No way, Pete,” Harry cries. He grabs Peter by the wrist and pulls him from the dispersing crowd. “This party hasn’t even properly started. C’mon, I want to introduce you to some people.” 

The night goes by in a blur. He follows Harry from party to party, largely ignoring every drink his roommate shoves into his hand. And finally, when Harry is a little too tipsy to keep going and hitches a cab back to MIT campus, he insists that he takes Peter for fresh air. That’s how Peter ends up standing with Harry at the top of MIT’s robotics lab.

Harry’s sitting on the ground with his back to the railing, his fifth beer of the night pressed to his lips. Peter has one in his hands, largely untouched. Out of boredom, he takes a few sips, grimacing at the bitter taste. It burns on his tongue, but it keeps the sleepiness from clouding his eyes.

“What’s she like?” Harry asks, suddenly. It breaks the peaceful silence that has settled between the two. “Your girlfriend Michelle.” He tilts his head as he looks at Peter, and for a moment Peter thinks he’s _actually_ interested in what he has to say. Feeling sheepish, Peter pulls his phone from his pocket and finds the last photo they took together on their last date to Hart Island near the Bronx. It was a morbid date in retrospect, but Peter knew how much MJ wanted to see some of the spookiest places New York had to offer, so he decided to take her to a few he found after a quick Google search. Even though she likes dates at ancient burial grounds, Peter wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

He shows the picture to Harry. “That’s her,” he says, motioning to the photo. “She’s awesome. I had a crush on her for a while, and we got together during a… school trip to Europe. It was pretty cool.” 

“Europe, how romantic,” Harry comments, looking at the photo on Peter’s phone for another moment before handing it back to him. Peter takes his phone back, leaning up against the cool metal railing on the roof of the building. It’s late, almost two in the morning, but he can’t help the desire to text MJ and check in on her.

_I know it’s late. Or early,_ he types. _I just wanted to say I miss you. Call me when you can._

He pockets his phone, letting out a defeated sigh. 

“You’re not a sad drunk, are you?” Harry asks from his place on the floor. 

Peter stifles a laugh. “I’m not even drunk, dude. You are.”

  
“Oops.” Harry stretches his arms out above his head with an exaggerated yawn. “Was I drunk or did you say something about ‘Mr. Stark’s lab’ earlier during the robot fight? There’s no way you meant like… Tony Stark. Iron-Man. Right?”

This is what Peter feared. It’s not that his connection with Tony Stark would give away his connection with Spider-Man. He truly _was_ Tony’s intern after all. But that didn’t mean it was any easier to talk about. The whole world lost Iron-Man. But Peter lost Tony. No one knows who he _really_ is, so he’s not allowed to be any more upset than everyone else.

“What? No- I mean, I’ve been in his lab, but not that often,” he begins to stammer, trying to find a way to downplay it and avoid as much conversation about Tony Stark as possible. 

“Dude, you were in Iron Man’s lab?” Harry stares at him incredulously. “What the hell?”

Peter rubs at the back of his neck. It’s certainly buzzing now, like a low warning growl that’s letting him now he’s steering too far in the wrong direction. Ever since Europe, he tries to listen to the nagging sense in the back of his mind whenever he can. But he’s still unsure why it seems to be going off around Harry so frequently. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“I was an intern at Stark Industries,” Peter mutters, trying to avoid Harry’s curious eyes. “Only for like six months, but it was a really cool experience. I only met him a few times.”

“You never told me you were a genius, Pete,” Harry chimes, the smile in his voice evident before Peter can even turn around and see the stupid grin on his face. 

  
“Everyone at this school is smart,” Peter chides. He places his half-full beer bottle on the ground and takes the spot next to Harry. He presses his back against the railing and leans his head back to gaze at the stars. Someone mentioned to him once that during those five years that everyone was gone, you could almost see the milky way in the sky. But he can’t see it today. 

Harry nudges him on the shoulder. “I didn’t say you were _smart_ ,” he amends. “You’re a genius. I don’t think most kids here at MIT would be able to even get that gig. Believe me, I tried.” He gestures to himself as if the mere thought of _him_ being turned away from Stark Industries was unfathomable. That’s something that Peter’s noticed about Harry in the short time that he’s known him: an ego too large for his head. But in some ways, Peter finds it endearing. It reminds him of someone.

Peter stares at Harry with disbelief. “ _You_ tried to be a Stark intern? But your dad--”

“My dad wanted to send me to boarding school for the rest of my life after he found out,” Harry laughs as if remembering a fond memory. There’s a trace of a painful smile on his face. Like he’s remembering something that maybe isn’t there anymore. “He was absolutely livid.. My dad doesn’t do well with competition. But I didn’t want to work for my dad, so the next best bet was Stark.”

There’s a full, bitter silence that settles between them at that moment. Peter knows, even without the uneasiness crawling under his skin, that Harry does not like his dad very much. There’s tension in the boy’s jaw when he talks about him, but the somewhat soft, longing look in his face when he talks about him is enough to make Peter question it. It’s a complicated relationship, it seems. And it also is one that is _none of his business_. 

“What do your parents do, Pete?” Harry asks after clearing his throat, probably to clear that suffocating lull that fell between them. 

  
Peter licks his lips. “It’s just my aunt May and I,” he says. “She worked as a nurse in an ER, but now she’s running a homeless shelter in Queens.”

Harry nods respectfully. “She sounds nice.”

  
“She’s the best.” Peter forces himself to take another sip of his beer. 

They sit like that, together, in silence until Peter’s phone clock reads three in the morning. Peter feels the exhaustion in his bones-- from the long day of travel, the stressful, lonely move in, and now the aftermath fatigue of his first actual college party. He wants to curl up into bed, call Aunt May, and tell her everything that happened today. Hell, maybe she’d even try to talk him into joining that robotics team. But he can’t. It’s far too late to call her now, so he has no other choice but to lug Harry to his feet and back to their dormitory in the ungodly hours of the morning. He doesn’t change out of his clothes or brush his teeth when he gets home. He simply deposits Harry by his bed, urging him to get into bed. But all that Peter has strength left for is to crawl into his bed with his jeans still on and fall asleep instantly.


End file.
